The first gray fingers of dawn stretched across the sky, pale and hesitant, as if afraid to disturb the quiet storm brewing inside Li Jinnian. The city beneath began to stir, but he remained rooted in his office, a man adrift in his own fortress of power.
He moved toward the minimalist desk, running a hand over its cold surface. The usual order of things felt distorted. His empire was solid, yet fragile beneath the surface. Employees whispered in corridors, projects faltered, and a restlessness hummed in the air. But none of that was new.
What was new was the ache behind his steady gaze a crack in the armor he'd worn for decades.
His fingers brushed the edge of a small velvet box on the shelf, a relic from a time before duty and legacy swallowed everything. Inside lay a simple silver ring, an emblem of a promise made and broken. He didn't know why he still kept it, but tonight it felt like a tether to a softer, more vulnerable self.
Turning away, he sank back into his chair, the leather creaking softly. The shadows in the room deepened as morning light filtered unevenly through the blackout curtains. His mind drifted to his brothers his only true family.
Li Jinnian's relationship with his two younger brothers was one of unspoken loyalty and silent camaraderie. They shared childhood memories steeped in the luxury and pressure of the Li family name, but also scars hidden beneath the surface.
Unlike their father's ambitions, the brothers clung to Jinnian with something close to reverence. Their stepmother, cold and calculating, remained a thorn in all their sides. But even that didn't explain Mei Lin's sudden appearance in his life.
He pulled up a file on his computer, his brothers' recent business dealings. Nothing linked to the woman who'd punched him in the face and laughed afterward.
The puzzle twisted tighter.
His phone vibrated again, a message from one of his childhood friends, Liang Yu, asking if he was ready for tonight's outing. A welcome distraction, and yet Jinnian barely responded.
He wasn't in the mood for frivolity.
Instead, his thoughts returned to Mei Lin.
Who was she? What did she want? And why did her presence ignite a fire he hadn't felt in years?
He'd never been one to pursue feelings. Love, anger, passion all carefully managed, compartmentalized, and discarded when inconvenient.
But Mei Lin challenged that.
His mind drifted to the brief moments after the fight. Her wild laughter, the way her eyes sparkled with defiance and something tender beneath the surface.
He remembered the way she'd looked at him not with fear or respect, but with the fierce honesty of someone who'd faced a lifetime of struggle and refused to bow.
There was no place for softness in his world. And yet, there was something irresistible about her.
The quiet was broken by a sudden knock on the door.
A junior executive stepped inside, cautious.
"Mr. Li, the morning briefings are scheduled in thirty minutes. The new hires have started submitting applications. We await your final approval."
Jinnian nodded, steeling himself. Business always came first.
Yet, beneath the practiced calm, a part of him wondered if the answers he sought would come from the corridors of his empire or from the unpredictable woman who had turned his world upside down.
Outside the glass walls, the city awakened fully, oblivious to the storm of thoughts brewing within the aloof CEO.
Li Jinnian took a slow, deliberate breath and prepared to face the day.
The hunt for truth, for understanding, for something beyond power had only just begun.
Through back memory of the fight: The receptionist's eyes flicked up at him, widened slightly at the faint discoloration forming along his cheekbone, then dropped just as quickly.
Professional enough not to comment, but not skilled enough to hide the recognition that something was… off.
Jinnian didn't slow his stride.
The sharp rhythm of his Italian leather shoes echoed down the polished marble corridor, each step measured, controlled, the sound of a man who ruled an empire and didn't have to explain himself to anyone.
He'd been in street fights before.
Years ago. Youthful arrogance, bad decisions, adrenaline still burning in his blood long after the fists stopped flying.
But this? This was different.
First of all, he hadn't thrown a single punch.
Not because he couldn't.
Because he wouldn't.
There were rules he kept for himself, personal codes no one else needed to understand.
And one of those rules was simple: he didn't raise his hand to women. No matter the provocation.
Unfortunately, that noble boundary had done nothing to stop those two wild, furious women from raining down blows like they'd been sent by the heavens to personally dismantle him and Wei both.
Wei…
Jinnian's jaw tightened imperceptibly.
His assistant hadn't returned after "stepping out" earlier, and Jinnian knew perfectly well why.
Cowardice disguised as discretion and he had already been fired for beating a woman.
He swept into his office without breaking stride, letting the door shut firmly behind him. The floor-to-ceiling windows framed the city skyline in endless shades of steel and glass, but even that view — normally enough to anchor his mind — did little to pull him out of the strange haze clinging to him.
Because when he closed his eyes, he saw her.
Not the other one, the sobbing, enraged friend with the shrill curses.
No.
The tall one. The one with the cool eyes that somehow burned.
Her hair had been a mess from the scuffle, strands sticking to her damp forehead, but it didn't matter.
There'd been a flash of something… familiar.
Like an echo of a face he'd seen before, somewhere far away from that backstreet ambush.
It had been quick, almost too quick to register — just a glance between the swing of her fists.
But it had stuck.
He sank into his chair, leaning back, the supple leather creaking under his weight.
He didn't do this, lingering on strangers.
It wasn't in his nature to let anyone occupy mental space without earning it.
And yet, here he was, replaying it in his head.
The sudden shout from her friend.
The way she'd stepped forward, shielding the smaller one like a bodyguard before charging.
The brief moment when her gaze had locked with his right before she swung at him again.
Jinnian exhaled slowly, resisting the urge to rub his temple.
He had better things to do than dwell on an unknown woman from a street brawl.
Still…
There was something about that look.
Not the hostility, he could handle hostility.
It was the recognition in her eyes.
The unsettling impression that she'd known him, and hated him on sight.
But that made no sense.
He didn't forget faces easily, and hers — he should have remembered.
A sharp knock at the door broke the silence.
"Come in," he said, voice smooth and even, masking the disquiet under his skin.
One of the HR heads stepped in, file in hand, speaking quickly about staffing gaps and urgent replacements for the employees who'd been terminated earlier.
Jinnian listened, nodded, issued concise instructions.
But behind his controlled expression, half his mind wasn't even in the room.
It was still on that sunlit street, on the blur of motion, the sharpness of her gaze, the strange, gnawing familiarity that refused to let him go.
A knock broke the heavy quiet of the office.
Three soft raps, unhurried, almost cheerful.
Jinnian didn't look up.
"Come in."
The door swung open, letting in a breeze of laughter.
It wasn't his brother's laugh, that sound had always been softer, warmer but Wen Zihan's deep, easy chuckle filled the space first.
"Leave us Mrs. Qing" Jinnian signaled for the HR to excuse them.
"Jin-ge," Zihan greeted as he stepped in, not alone.
Behind him was Li Jinqiang, the younger of the three Li brothers, and unlike Jinnian's sharp, stoic presence, Jinqiang carried himself like sunlight in human form.
He was grinning, his head tilted toward Zihan in mid-conversation.
"…and then the chef nearly fainted when he realized the order was wrong," Jinqiang was saying, his tone rich with amusement. "I swear, Zihan-ge, you could charm a refund out of the emperor himself."
Zihan smirked. "Not untrue. But in my defense, he was serving the wrong wine."
The two of them stepped fully inside, carrying the faint scent of roasted coffee and some distant trace of cologne that didn't belong to Jinnian's office.
Jinnian closed the file in his hands with deliberate slowness.
"What are you doing here?" he asked, voice even, but his gaze flicking between them.
"Passing by," Jinqiang said lightly, settling into one of the leather chairs opposite the desk without invitation. "Zihan dropped me off after brunch. Thought I'd say hello before you bury yourself in work again."
It was typical Jinqiang, breezy, unfazed, immune to the heavy air his older brother tended to create.
If anything, he seemed determined to bring his own brightness into it.
Zihan, meanwhile, leaned against the desk, perfectly comfortable in Jinnian's personal space.
"I tried to convince him to join us," he said with a teasing glance at Jinnian, "but he insisted he was busy. Turns out he's just in here brooding."
"I don't brood," Jinnian replied flatly.
"You're brooding," Zihan countered without missing a beat.
Jinqiang chuckled. "Definitely brooding. What happened, did the quarterly report bite you?"
Jinnian's jaw tightened. He didn't answer.
Zihan exchanged a look with Jinqiang, one of those silent conversations friends have after years of knowing each other.
Then Zihan straightened, half-grinning.
"Well, whatever's chewing at you, you need to loosen up. We're planning a small gathering later... dinner, some wine, nothing loud. You should come."
Jinqiang chimed in with a lopsided smile. "Yes, ge. No suits, no titles, just good food. It'll be fun."
Jinnian glanced at them both, his mind still flicking — unhelpfully — to her.
For a split second, he wondered why the mental image of her standing there, chin lifted in defiance, felt sharper now that his brother was in the room.
Zihan eased into the chair beside Jinqiang, draping one arm lazily over the backrest.
The contrast between the two men was almost comical. Zihan with his smooth, deliberate stillness, and Jinqiang bouncing one knee in restless energy like a kid who'd had too much coffee.
"So," Zihan began, turning that fox-like smile toward Jinnian, "any updates in your personal life?"
Jinnian didn't look up from the file he'd reopened. "No."
"No?" Zihan repeated, leaning forward as though inspecting a rare animal. "You've been working like a monk lately. I'm starting to think you've sworn some kind of celibacy oath."
Jinqiang laughed. "Ge? Celibacy? Not likely. He's just… selective."
Zihan raised a brow. "Selective is fine. But completely barren? That's suspicious."
"I'm not having this conversation," Jinnian said, setting the file down with a soft thud.
"Which means I've hit a nerve," Zihan said smoothly.
"Or you're wasting my time."
The corner of Zihan's mouth twitched.
"Funny, because you're the one who looks like you've seen a ghost lately."
Jinqiang's head tilted, curiosity piqued. "A ghost? What ghost?"
"Not an actual ghost," Zihan said, still watching Jinnian closely. "But every now and then, I swear you have this… distracted look. Like something's been stuck in your head."
Jinqiang perked up. "Oh! Is this about that woman you bumped into last week? The one you wouldn't talk about?"
Zihan's gaze sharpened. "Woman?"
Jinnian shot his younger brother a warning look, but Jinqiang only grinned wider.
"I told him she seemed familiar. He didn't agree."
Zihan leaned forward, eyes glinting with interest. "And where was this?"
Jinqiang tapped his temple theatrically. "Outside the office, I think. Hard to recall exactly. But ge looked… irritated. Which is basically his version of starstruck."
Jinnian exhaled sharply. "I'm not discussing this."
Zihan sat back, clearly enjoying the rare chance to rattle him.
"Well," he said with mock thoughtfulness, "when you're ready to admit a woman managed to slip past your armor, let me know. I'd like to meet the unicorn who did it."
"Don't hold your breath," Jinnian replied coolly.
Jinqiang laughed again, oblivious to the weight that settled between his brother's words.
But deep inside, Jinnian could feel that familiar irritation stir not at them, but at himself.
Why couldn't he place her? Why did that face keep flashing in his mind?
When the lunch plates were cleared, Jinqiang excused himself first, something about meeting a friend for coffee.
Zihan lingered a few moments longer, sipping his tea with calculated slowness before finally standing.
"I'll see you soon," Zihan said, voice deceptively casual. "And Jinnian… when you finally remember, do tell me. I have a feeling it's going to be interesting."
The door clicked shut behind him, leaving the office in the same quiet it had been before the brothers arrived.
Except now, the silence felt heavier.
Jinnian leaned back in his chair, eyes drifting to the skyline beyond his floor-to-ceiling windows.
The city was a blur of motion — traffic weaving, pedestrians hurrying, billboards flashing with relentless brightness — yet none of it could pull his mind away from her.
He could still see her standing there, fierce and unapologetic.
Her voice sharp.
Her eyes unflinching.
There was a defiance in her posture that made his instincts split in two — one part wanting to push back, the other part… strangely admiring.
But there was something else.
A shadow of familiarity.
The tilt of her chin. The way her hair caught the light.
It was like trying to recall the details of a dream one you know you've had before, yet every time you reach for it, it slips further away.
His fingers drummed against the desk.
He had met countless people in his life, clients, competitors, investors, employees and not one face lingered unless it needed to.
So why this one?
He tried to force the thought away, to bury it beneath the mountain of work waiting for him.
But every document he reviewed, every email he opened, her face would flash again in his mind like an interruption he couldn't mute.
With a quiet sigh, he closed the file in front of him and pressed the intercom.
"Tell HR I want the list of potential replacements for the positions we cleared yesterday. I'll be signing in the new recruites."
There was a pause on the line before the secretary responded, "Personally, sir?"
"Yes," he said.
If the decision surprised anyone, they didn't voice it.
When the line went dead, he sat there for a moment longer, jaw tightening.
This wasn't about her. It couldn't be.
He was simply being thorough.
And yet, deep down, he knew that wasn't the whole truth.